


The Origin of Sin

by jessisnotdeadyet



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Human Castiel, M/M, Post-Season/Series 08 Finale
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-23
Updated: 2015-08-13
Packaged: 2018-02-10 02:28:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2007579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jessisnotdeadyet/pseuds/jessisnotdeadyet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post Season 8. Human Castiel finally finds Dean after months of chasing him across the country. But within minutes of their reunion, the now-human Cas is taken by some supernatural force. Sam has walked out on Dean yet again and is helping to cure demons down in Hell with Crowley, meaning that Dean must search for Cas by himself. Eventual established Destiel, with hints of it throughout.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Cas

Dean threw his head slowly back as he reclined into his chair, letting out a sigh of resigned frustration as his eyes met the ceiling of the motel room. Sammy’s bedsheets lay rumpled and discarded upon his abandoned bed where he had left them. There was no other sign that he had ever been there at all.

Gone again, after yet another stupid argument. Hadn’t he promised Sam that he’d fix this? Hadn’t he told him he’d sort everything out? But now, at the time when Dean needed him the most, his brother had run out on him. Yet again Sam had chosen to get out rather than to face his demons, even though he should have realized by then that there was no escape from the life of the Hunters.

Dean couldn’t do any of this without his little brother. As independent and cool he portrayed himself to be, he was in fact lost without Sam, his ever-present, ever-grounded Sammy. His brother was the only thing that Dean had left. Well, him and Cas. But Cas had been missing for months now; ever since the angels had fallen. So when Sam had walked out the bathroom door had taken a pounding. Meaning that it was now lying on the floor with its splintered hinges hanging off. Dean looked at it now, and closed his eyes under a tired hand as he regretted the damage. He was just so uncontrollable when it came to his brother.

He rose out of the chair eventually, and his footsteps were heavy as he made his way over to his bag and the pile of neatly folded clothes on his bed. As he began to pack them away the motel door burst open with a great bang as it hit the wall.

Dean whirled around, pulling his gun out in one swift movement as he did so, the barrel pointed perfectly accurately at none but Castiel, who stood breathlessly a few paces into the room.

“Cas?” Dean lowered his gun in shock.

“Hello, Dean.” Cas was breathing heavily, as though he’d been running. But Cas didn’t pant when he ran. For that matter, he hardly ever ran.

“Cas? What’s wrong?” Dean asked concernedly as he made his way over to his friend, reaching out his hand to grip his arm.

Cas’ eyes moved sheepishly away, and he looked down at the floor by his feet. “Dean,” he said hesitantly, screwing up his face as though ashamed. “I –”

“Hey.” Dean cut him off and caught his chin, pulling it so that Cas would look at him. When their eyes met, Dean’s expression became a warm, joyous yet sad smile. “Where the hell have you been?” he breathed as he pulled Cas into a tight hug, wrapping his arms around the trenchcoat-clad angel and pulling him in close. “You could’ve been dead. You weren’t answering me. What happened to you?”

Cas’ body was stiff. “I couldn’t get to you. You moved around too much. It was difficult for me to catch up.”

Dean pulled away, but kept his hands firmly on Cas’ upper arms as he scrutinised him. “What do you mean? You can appear out of nowhere. If you knew where I was then why couldn’t you just… Come?”

“I’m not –” Cas inhaled sharply. “I’m not an angel anymore, Dean.”

“What?” Dean spluttered, his brows pulling together in a confused frown.

“Metatron,” Cas explained. “He wasn’t trying to close Heaven. He was working a spell that cast all the angels out of Heaven. The first two parts of the spell – killing a Nephilim and cutting off a Cupid’s bow – I did, and then Metatron took my Grace for the last part. You saw what happened after that.”

Dean turned from the now-human Castiel with the back of his right hand pressed to his forehead as though fatigued. He took a few steps before he looked at Cas again, who bore the expression of a begging man, as though he was pleading for forgiveness, acceptance. He looked so shattered and helpless that Dean could do nothing but comfort him. “Cas,” he began. “It’s okay. You didn’t know –”

“No, Dean.” Cas shook his head. “I should have known. I should’ve seen it. Every time I’ve trusted someone they have betrayed me. Everyone except for you. Every time I try to do the right thing it turns out to be the worst thing I could possibly do. I should’ve known that Metatron would use me. Just like everybody else has. I should’ve believed you. I should have –”

“Cas.” Dean’s voice was firm as he laid a hand on his friend’s shoulder to stop him. “You were just trying to do something. You didn’t know Metatron would lie to you. There’s no point in being mistrusting of everyone just because people in your past have deceived you. You were looking for someone to help you, that’s all. You can’t blame yourself for any of this.”

“Dean…”

“‘Dean…’ Nothing. You’re here and you’re safe and that’s all that matters.” Dean paused. “But man… You smell awful.”

“I – What?”

“You smell seriously bad, Cas,” Dean said, wrinkling his nose, but laughing at the same time. “When was the last time you had a shower?”

Cas looked alarmed. “Shower?”

“Yeah, Cas. It pours hot water over your body and you get soap and scrub yourself clean,” Dean replied concernedly. “Are you telling me you haven’t had a shower all this time?”

“I… Erm…”

Dean rubbed his eyes with finger and thumb. “Okay, okay. S’okay, Cas. We’ll get you cleaned up.” God, I hope I don’t have to help him shower, he thought anxiously. “And, Cas? Have you… Err… Figured out how to… Erm… Use the… Erm… Use the toilet?” he blushed.

“Yes, Dean,” Cas replied, squinting perplexedly.

“And you’ve slept, yeah?”

“Yes, Dean.”

“So you had some money, then? For a motel?”

“No.”

“What do you mean, ‘No’?” Dean frowned. “Didn’t you get a motel?”

Cas looked away, fidgeting with the buttons of his filthy coat, and Dean was filled with realization. “You slept on the streets?” he almost whispered.

“By the roadside, mostly,” Cas corrected. “And sometimes in the seat of a car if I could get a ride.”

“Jesus, Cas,” Dean sighed, shaking his head. “How the Hell did you survive? Where’d you get food?”

“I… Stole it,” he confessed guiltily, barely able to lift his head. “From market stalls, from people’s houses. Turns out this coat is a good place to hide a loaf of bread or a bag of apples.”

“Shit,” Dean cursed. “Cas… I’m so sorry.”

“Sorry for what, Dean?”

“Not sorry for anything,” Dean said. “I’m just sorry that you had to go through that. Sorry I changed my phone number so you couldn’t call me. Sorry that you’re sweaty and tired and starving. You didn’t deserve that, Cas.”

“It’s not your fault, Dean,” Cas said sternly.

“Yeah, whatever.” He inhaled sharply.

“I’m sorry too, Dean.”

“Don’t be,” Dean smiled, and that smile sent warm shivers down Cas’ spine. “You’re here now.”

Cas tilted his head to the side in that familiar way, relief flooding through his usual mask of serenity as he took in Dean’s absolute understanding and the gladness that came with him having Cas back. Cas offered the Hunter a small, sheepish smile and Dean gladly widened his own to a grin of his own before patting his friend’s shoulder and moving back to the bed to continue packing.

“Where’s Sam?”

Dean’s hands froze for an instant. “Sam’s gone,” he said stiffly, shoving his jeans in a little more viciously than was necessary. “You just missed him, actually.”

Cas gave a slight nod. Then they both were still in the silence for a long while, neither moving. Dean broke through the quiet, speaking in a business-like fashion. “Talk to me, Cas,” he requested.

Cas stumbled over his words in confusion. “I don’t… I… There’s nothing…”

“You’re human, Cas,” Dean stated firmly. “You must have something to say. Some questions…. Anything?”

Cas moved over to Dean’s bed and sat down upon its edge. He clasped his hands together in front of his knees. Dean abandoned his packing and took a seat next to him, patiently watching the former angel as he drew in a deep breath. Cas’ blue eyes flickered automatically towards Dean’s, so unsure and vulnerable, but he saw Dean’s to be steady, and this gave him confidence to speak.

“Being human… Isn’t as easy as you make out. Without my Grace, I feel as empty as you would soulless. I feel empty and broken and scared, Dean.” Cas’ face flushed mutely as he confessed. “I’m scared of being killed or hurt, and I’m scared of you getting killed or hurt and me not being able to fix you. As an angel I never had to worry about ordinary knives or guns or even just traffic…” His laugh was short and bitter. “I know how… Hard it is to be you. To be… Alone, amongst other things.” He wrung his hands together nervously, and Dean, sensing his anxiety, laid one of his over the top of them, making circling movements with his thumb, stilling Cas’ fingers with a reassuring squeeze. Cas looked down at their hands and smiled sadly, giving Dean a soft glance. “Thank you,” he said sincerely. A long pause.

“Dean?” Cas said. “Contact from another human being… Does it comfort you?”

“Well we aren’t all badass,” Dean smirked. “Everyone likes to know that there’s someone there who’s got your back.”

“Have you got my back, Dean?” Cas asked, his voice small.

“Always,” Dean confirmed. “I’m here for you, Cas. When you need me.”

“And I’m here when you need me.”

Dean couldn’t find words to reply. He stood up instead, and shouldered his bag, his body inviting Cas to come with, which, with a second for Cas to appreciate this open acceptance after having made yet another grand mistake, he did.

He had crossed to the middle of the room and Dean was at the door, when he began to flicker. His image wavered in and out of existence as Cas looked down at himself, then back at Dean, terrified. “Dean!” he panicked.

Dean turned around, dropping his bag onto the floor as Cas’ form flashed in and out of reality. “Cas!” he called.

“What’s happening, Dean?” Cas freaked as the flickering became faster and faster, with each flash of his being there becoming shorter and shorter.

“Hold onto me!” Dean said, stretching out to try and grab his friend’s returned outstretched hand.

“Dean!” Cas cried out as he disappeared, his desperate hand vanishing into nothing. Dean waited a second, but Cas didn’t reappear.

“Cas?” Dean shouted into the empty room. “Cas!” Nothing. “Dammit!” he screamed, raising his hands up behind his head in fists of anguish. He knew he was gone.

In a heartbeat, Dean shot out of the door, throwing his bag onto his back and his coat over his arm. He did not look back nor did he hesitate as he fired up the Impala and drove furiously into the night.


	2. Dreams of Nowhere

Sam wasn’t picking up his cell. It wasn’t uncommon that he would ignore Dean after a fight, but Dean needed his brother’s help. He had to find Cas. And when he did, whoever had taken him would pay dearly, most preferably with their life. He was so worried. They could do anything to him and he wouldn’t have any immunity to the torture whatsoever. Cas was used to pain, but the ease with which his kidnappers could kill him truly frightened Dean. Cas had no way out, as he could barely use a gun and fighting without his angelic strength was near futile. The very thought of Cas being so exposed was terrifying, and it only added fuel to Dean’s already raging incentive.

“Come on, Sam. Pick up,” Dean muttered under his breath as he dialled the number again.

“This is Sam Winchester. Leave a message,” the voicemail intoned. Dean snapped the phone shut angrily, and then threw it down on the passenger seat, finally giving up.

 _Dammit, Sam_ , he cursed internally. But Dean knew that even if he had been able to get through to his brother, Sam would be no use. There were no leads, no clues, no nothing. Cas had disappeared without a trace. There was no way that Dean could get his friend back, even if he scoured all of Earth for a thousand years. Cas was gone. But something stopped Dean from truly believing it. He didn’t know what, but it gave him courage, so he kept on driving.

\---

Cas’ surroundings were extremely familiar to him, although there were certain differences that marked this place out as being not the same. It had all the same décor as the stately room where Zachariah had taken Dean and Adam in previous times, but this room was a different shape, the table was a wooden oval, and the walls had a bluer tint to them. There were no burgers or beers upon the table here, only a single crystal glass of water.

Cas seemed to be entirely alone. No angels, no demons. Just him and the gruesome paintings upon the walls. Cas sat down in one of the four chairs that surrounded the ovular table and set his mind to plans for escape. It wasn’t as though he could just fly out of there now. But before he could concentrate he first had to shove the memory of Dean’s desperate plea out of his head. It was Purgatory all over again. It was almost as painful in itself as it was for Cas to be away from him.

First question. Who could have taken him, and who would have wanted to? There were no angels left, save for Metatron. And Cas knew that Metatron wouldn’t have wanted this. He’d told Cas exactly what he wanted when he’d ripped the Grace from Cas’ throat. Crowley, then? Surely not. Crowley would want Cas dead, not captured, all things considered. Crowley was ruled out then, especially now that the demon king could kill him so easily. He would not have taken Castiel in this way.

The design of the room Cas had identified as being angelic, even though Cas knew all angels to be cast out and Graceless. So what ethereal alternative was there that would classify with angels? Cas felt terrible for even thinking of it, but was it… God? God was powerful enough, as Cas had caused devastation enough to deserve to be excluded from the rest of the world, if God didn’t want to kill him. Locking him away in a room seemed to be a sensible solution to prevent Cas from causing any more problems. So, due to a lack of a more suitable culprit, Cas had to assume that it was his Father who had done this, as much as it pained him to think it.

 _Dean_ , Cas’ thoughts pined. _Where are you, Dean?_ Cas shook himself, chastising his mind immediately. He couldn’t think like that if he was going to stand this seclusion. The elder Winchester was not the best thing to think about, as the brother only increased Cas’ sense of loneliness and longing for his company. He’d only just found him, for God’s sake, and now he was even further away than he had been before. He hadn’t even said goodbye. Not that Cas had ever been good at goodbyes.

\---

The Impala’s engine died as Dean twisted the key, parking it into the lot of the Budget Host Cloverland Hotel, Michigan. He didn’t intend to book a room, but instead to sleep in his car for three or four hours before setting out again. There was no more important thing than getting Cas back; not even the temptation of pecan pie could make Dean pull over. He wouldn’t have stopped then, but not sleeping for five days had taken its toll and Dean would be no good to Cas when he was too exhausted to think, let alone drive. He didn’t even know what he was driving towards. No reason to travel in any direction at all. And Sam still wouldn’t pick up the phone, which was just another cause for concern.  
Dean closed his reddened, bloodshot eyes, and drifted off almost instantly.

\---

_He was in the middle of nowhere. Some strange world had erupted around him, where the trees bore strange fruits of all weird varieties. The ones closest to him looked like silver fox tails where they hung from the branches of the leafy trees. There was no-one around, and Dean found himself wandering through the trees, plucking the fruits off the branches and placing them gently into a basket made of dried river reeds. There seemed to be no objective to this, and no end. He kept on walking._

_Where was this place? It was like nowhere Dean had seen before, but then was anything ever as it was in dreams? He ran his fingers across the trunks of the trees, feeling the roughness of their bark in perfect clarity._ Far too vivid, _Dean thought, his suspicions rising._

_There was no wind, and no sound of birds as there would be in any usual orchard. It was unimaginably still and quiet and peaceful. Perhaps one might call it heavenly, but to Dean, that usually meant eerie._ Like something out of Narnia, _Dean scoffed as he plucked a leaf off the ground, and twirling it between his fingers._

_What was he doing here, really? He was collecting fruit, but for what purpose. He was not hungry. Was there someone else out there who he was collecting all this fruit for? Was there someone who he was to present this basket of goods to? Something inside him nodded. Yes. So he wasn’t alone, then. Somewhere here there was another being that he had to find because they were hungry and they needed him to bring them something to eat. So bring them something to eat he would._

_He reached up into the next tree to grab the nearest fruit, with a conscious purpose now rather than impulse, when a snake from the grass sprung out and dug its fangs into Dean’s calf. Dean howled in pain as the snake’s jaws gripped tighter and tighter, injecting poison into his veins as it clung on tightly._

_Unable to do anything but, Dean ripped the snake and the huge chunk of his flesh it held away from him, flinging the creature across the forest. “Shit,” Dean swore as he pressed his hand against his bleeding wound. There was no way to get the poison out, and Dean winced as he tore a strip off his shirt to hold against the mess that was his calf._

_Looking around, Dean spotted a pool of water just twenty metres from where he was crouched. He straightened himself up so that he was standing, and he began to limp over to the pool. His leg burned unpleasantly as the toxin started to take effect. “Crap,” Dean hissed, falling upon his knees, unable to make it any further, clutching the grass in his weakness._

_His breathing became ragged and shallow as his pulse rate shot up. The poison clenched his heart with an iron grip, squeezing and squeezing, holding it still. Dean felt himself go limp as he collapsed onto his chest. His chest contracted with living breath just once more, then Dean Winchester lay unmoving in the vast forests of God’s Garden._

Dean’s eyes shot open, and his lungs heaved for breath. Just a dream, Dean reassured himself shakily as he sank back to rest against the seat once more.

A few seconds passed as Dean became calmer and more aware of the world once again. His first realization, and the most worrying to him, was that the sky was light and the Sun had risen high into the sky. He slammed the wheel with his palms in frustration. He had slept for far too long. Cas was waiting for him; he couldn’t afford to waste time.  
He fired up the engine and slammed on the accelerator without a thought for breakfast.


	3. A Snake in the Room

Cas had taken to pacing. As a human it seemed impossible for him to stay still for any great length of time. Cas had discovered since his arrival in the room that the glass of water upon the table magically refilled itself every time Cas became parched, and that there was a bathroom through a door at the far wall, so relieving himself was not an issue.

He had lost count of the days, as there were no timepieces to be found anywhere in the room, and counting hours, minutes and seconds in tallies scratched into the table with his fingernails had only been successful until Cas had first fallen asleep. On the floor, due to the absence of a bed. He could have been there any number of days, or weeks even. He had simply no way of knowing. So in his anxiety and boredom, he paced.

Back and forth the length of the room. To the far wall, and back again. There and back. There and back. Over and over again, as regular as Cas' strong heartbeats. Past the painting of Adam, past the painting of Eve. Past the painting of Eve, past the painting of Adam. Past the painting of Adam…

"Castiel."

The voice stopped him dead in his tracks, and Cas twisted around so sharply that his feet stumbled over themselves.

The smiling figure who greeted him was of average height, so just an inch or two smaller than Cas. His skin was pallid and mottled with purple and blue veins, but so translucent that even little red arteries could be seen beneath it. The man's head was dressed in long, thick hair the colour of rich wood, accompanied by the accessory of a short beard of the same qualities. His eyes, in contrast, were the blue of the mature forget-me-not. With mild amusement contained within the crinkles around his curving mouth, the man raised his hands out wide.

"Welcome," he said, his voice like treacle: dark and sticky, yet incredibly seductive. "I thought this interior might be to your taste. Angels seem to like this sort of thing, I have learned."

Cas narrowed his eyes at the stranger who stood in his Victorian suit across the table from him as he adopted an aggressive defensive stance. "Who are you?" he demanded threateningly.

The other man's smile morphed into a sly grin. "All in its time, dear Castiel," he replied as he turned his back on Cas, and instead began to study the painting on the wall before him. Cas took a wary step, moving around the table, his stance tense and that of a warrior.

"You know," the man said absently. "I've always admired the effort that humans put into making these." Cas continued to edge around the table, flinching at the man's voice. "They can spend years on just one painting, but in the end, what they paint is always completely inaccurate." Cas stalked ever closer, having cleared the table now. "At first I scorned them for it, but then I saw their dedication, and it changed my perception of art entirely." Cas opened his arms, preparing to grab his captor as he closed in, taking the final steps…

The man whirled around faster than Cas could comprehend and shoved him with inhuman force backwards in the space of a blink. He crashed into the table, which crumpled under his weight so Cas fell flat upon his back, his head hitting the ground with a crack. The man leapt onto him, pinning Cas' legs down with his knees and his hands gripped Cas' wrists like vices. Dazed and winded, Cas squirmed in a futile endeavour to get free from beneath his opponent.

"I suggest," the man hissed with chilling malice. "That you behave. For your sake," he spat.

Then, without sound or warning, the pressure relieved itself from Cas' aching body and the man vanished. Cas grimaced in pain as he pulled himself onto his feet. There was an instant and slightly bruise that had formed in its purplish splendour over his left cheekbone, and his head was throbbing where he'd hit it on the underside of the table. His ribs had also taken a severe beating, hence the winding, and Cas gasped shallowly as he pressed his fingers to his chest, checking for damage.

He spared a glance for the destroyed table, but his gaze lingered upon the small pile of shattered glass which lay but centimetres from the broken-off table leg. The remains of his water glass glinted teasingly in the bright light.

So that would be it then; his punishment. And Cas could just about guarantee that he wouldn't be getting a meal anytime soon either.

With a stoic sigh, Cas readied himself for his coming thirst.

\---

Dean was pulled up on the side of the highway out of Michigan. His hands pressed heavily onto the roof of his car, and his head was bowed with teeth clenched in desperation. No Cas in Michigan. Not that he'd expected that there would be. But to have searched another city fruitlessly had been… Disheartening to say the least. He didn't even know why he was looking anymore. Cas wasn't anywhere.

He clenched a fist as he fought off the despair that threatened to envelop him in its massive dark folds. He wouldn't let himself give in to this feeling. He had to find Cas. He had to. The alternative was not worth thinking about. He would go anywhere – everywhere – if it meant finding Cas. And Dean wouldn't find him anywhere on Earth; he'd really always known that, but he hadn't properly thought upon it until now.

He reached through the open passenger window of the Impala, and snatched his phone up from where it had been resting upon the seat. Sam wasn't answering, so Dean would just have to call the only other Hunter he could think of who would help him. And who was still alive (somehow).

"Hey, Garth," he said as the cheerfully optimistic, unorthodox but charming Hunter picked up.

"Dean!" Garth's voice sounded excitedly through the line. "Great to hear from you, man. It's been too long, too long, man…"

"Yeah, Garth, you too." Dean rolled his eyes. "Look, I need some help."

"Sam not doing your research anymore, huh?" Garth laughed. "Gotta get me to do your research now?"

"Shut up, Garth," Dean snapped. "Sam's just taken a break. And Cas has gone missing."

"Cas as in… The angel, Cas? Your Cas?"

"Yes, the angel Cas. My Cas," Dean said, exasperated. "Wait – No… Not my Cas… Just… Just Cas –"

"Okay, okay. But I thought he'd gone missing months ago, you know, when Heaven all went crazy. Did he come back?"

Dean walked around to the driver's door as he responded. "Yeah, he came back about six days ago. Showed up in my motel room just after Sam left. But he's human, Garth. He's not an angel anymore. He said Metatron took his Grace. But literally five minutes after he got there he disappeared. Something took him, and now I've gotta find him."

A long sigh crackled through the speaker. "So you find Cas, you lose him, and now you need me to help you find him because Sam's gone off 'cause of that thing with the demons…"

"Okay, Garth. That's enough," Dean practically snarled down the phone.

"Alright, alright," he appealed hastily. "So what do you need?"

"A way into Purgatory."

"Dean, whatever you're thinking of, it's a bad idea," the Hunter warned sincerely.

"Yeah, probably," Dean shrugged as he climbed into the car, turning the key in the ignition. "But I still gotta do it. Do you know any rogue Reapers or something?"

"I'll have a look around." Garth's tone was cautious. "But this ain't gonna turn out well, Dean. I know you want to find Cas, but you've gotta stay safe, man."

"I will, Garth," Dean said as he pulled back onto the highway. "Call me if you find anything."

He closed his phone with a snap, and threw it back onto the passenger seat. He gripped the wheel tightly, and set his eyes forward, fixing them on a destination that he could not yet see.


	4. A Gracious Deal

Cas wet his lips with a quick flick of his parched tongue. He hadn't had a drink in hours, but it might have been days for all the good his starved brain was doing him. He'd forced himself to keep as still as he possibly could, breathing only through his nose to conserve what little water he had left. But this thirst and painful hunger meant that Cas was becoming rapidly weaker, weak enough to warrant thoughts of death by dehydration.

He's tried to sleep as much as he could but there was no rest when all he could feel was the churning of his empty stomach and the sandpaper texture of the inside of his mouth. Torture, Cas decided, need be no more than to simply remove water, food and sleep from a human's resources.

Cas could feel his body dying. His organs were straining against the depravity, but they were shutting down even so. The agony in his abdomen was close to unbearable and his eyes stung ferociously having not have blinked in more time than he could remember.

He hoped Dean would find him soon. Because he didn't have much time.

\---

"Dean Winchester. What can I do for you?" The Reaper's voice was literally dripping with cynicism.

"I need to get to Purgatory." Dean was as cold as stone. "And you're going to take me there. And then you're going to bring me back."

The Reaper laughed with sadistic mirth. "And why would I do that?"

"I would say 'If you don't, I'll kill you', but if I killed you, you still wouldn't help me." Dean toyed with the angel blade in the waistband of his jeans. "So I'm going to make you a deal instead."

The Reaper's eyes lit with ill-disguised interest. "And what sort of deal –" Every word was weighted. "Could you possibly make me?"

Dean lifted his chin slightly, everything about his posture challenging and assertive. "What do you want?"

"No restrictions?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.

"No restrictions," Dean confirmed.

The rogue showed his teeth in a malevolent grin of satisfaction. "Then," he said. "I want… Hmm… A piece of your soul. That'd do very nicely. Not all of it, mind. Just a piece. Nothing you'd miss."

Dean frowned, aghast. "My soul? You want a piece of my soul?"

"Yes. Give it to me and you get forty-eight hours in Purgatory before I come to fetch you," the reaper dealt, watching Dean as though he was a fly caught in a spider's web.

Dean cleared his throat nervously. "Which piece would you take?" he asked eventually.

The Reaper contained a smirk. "Only the part that makes you able to forgive. The part that allows you to say 'Apology accepted' whenever someone says they're sorry. I wouldn't have thought you needed that bit, Dean. Maybe if you thought that someone you care about would betray you… But you surely don't think that, do you?"

Sick to his stomach, Dean floundered helplessly. He needed to get to Purgatory, and through Purgatory, Hell. Cas needed him, and if this was the only way… "Son of a bitch…" he breathed too quietly for the Reaper to hear. He inhaled waveringly.

"Alright," he said shakily. "Take it."

The Reaper's eyebrows shot up in false surprise. As if he hadn't expected it. "Just like that?"

"Just like that. Dean composed his face so that the Reaper couldn't see his fear, just as he always did whenever he was afraid. "Now, before I change my mind."

The man came forward, coming close and into Dean's personal sphere. He reached his hand out and placed his fingers in a claw just below Dean's ribcage. Dean flinched at his touch. "This will hurt," the Reaper said, all humour gone. And then he plunged his hand deep into Dean's chest.

Dean screamed out into the darkness, his whole body tense as he howled in torment. His screams became scorching gasps as the Reaper began to retract his hand, as his soul was ripped, torn into pieces. It was a hotter fire than what burned on Earth, and it singed the edges of Dean's very being. His forgiveness was wrenched out with one final jerk, then there it was, glowing brightly between the Reaper's long fingers. Dean stared at it in some sort of twisted fascination, and watched as the Reaper fed it into a little bottle much like the one that Anna's Grace had been contained within, and then as he stowed it into his jacket pocket.

"What are you going to do with it?" Dean panted as he clutched his chest with one hand and wiped the spittle from his chin with the other.

The Reaper smirked and tapped the side of his nose. "Ready?"

Dean shook himself, forgetting about his deal, focusing now. "Ready."

He landed on his hands and knees in the forests of Purgatory, grazing his palms on the dry, rocking ground. "Sorry about that," the Reaper said, not looking at Dean. "But when you said 'Ready' I took it as a confirmation of readiness. I assume this is where you wanted to be?"

Dean found his feet and looked around at the familiar landscape, and at the even more recognisable dead bodies that littered the ground. "Yeah," Dean groaned as he rubbed the mud off his stinging palms.

"Then I shall see you in forty-eight hours. Don't be late. I don't like waiting for customers." Dean looked to where the Reaper had stood, but the rogue had already disappeared.

Dean took a moment to get his bearings, breathing deeply to steady himself, then drawing his angel blade out in preparation for inevitable attack. Twenty-four hours to search Purgatory. Twenty-four to search Hell. "I'd better get going, then," Dean stated to himself. Then he strode away from the beheaded vampire corpses and away from the fallen log and further into the purity of Purgatory.

Cas' eyes couldn't stay open anymore. His heart thumped so slowly that a whole minute might pass without counting more than thirty beats. He felt himself slipping.

Dean would be so angry. Angry at himself for not being quick enough. He couldn't forgive himself easily; it wasn't in his nature to let himself forget. That was, if Dean ever found his body. It was entirely possible that the only thing Dean would ever know was that Cas had gone and had never come back. And even though he would know in his heart that Cas was dead, he'd never stop looking. Not even if it tore him apart.

"How are you feeling, Castiel?" the man said gleefully as he appeared.

Cas opened his eyes in alert response, barely having the energy but forcing himself to look up. They were bloody and weeping as he caught the man's gaze. "Dear me, Castiel," he chuckled. "You look dreadful. But then, that was rather the point."

He came over then, and squatted down next to where Cas lay on the ground, propped up against the wall. He placed one hand on Cas' forehead. He was so weak that he couldn't even attempt to pull away. "I brought you something," the man said seriously now, reaching into his inner jacket pocket. Panic grew in Cas' eyes.

"No, no, Castiel," whispered the man. "It's nothing that'll hurt you. In fact, it might be the very thing that saves you."

A white-blue light pierced through the room, glaring into Cas' pupils, searing into his vision as the little glass vial emerged from the folds of the man's suit jacket, held tightly in the palm of his hand. "You know what this is? It's your Grace," the man purred, spinning the bottle between his fingers, observing it at every angle. "Well, it's not exactly your original Grace, but this one will do.

"That angel tablet of yours really is a powerful thing. All you need is a fraction of a human soul and you can turn it into an angel." He leant even closer, his tips almost touching the flesh of the dying man's ear. Cas' lungs spasmed in alarm. "I want you to be an angel for this, Castiel," he crooned in a whisper. "I want you to fall so hard."

The glass bottle shattered with a noise like a thunderclap as his fist tightened around it.


	5. Purgatory, You Fugly Dick

"Cas!" Dean's shouts bounced off the trees. "Cas!"

The silence that came back was too absolute. The whistling of the wind and the rustling of the dry leaves on the ground was the only thing that Dean could hear. He tensed up, his grip tightening on his weapon, preparing for the attack that he was certain would come.

A low, hissing snarl alerted Dean to the Leviathan's presence. He whirled on one foot, slicing across its neck as he did so. The thing's head dropped to the ground with a dull thud, and its body followed shortly after, its knees buckling and folding beneath the crumpling torso. Black blood oozed from its stump of a neck as Dean scanned the trees for any more. True to his expectations, a pair of vamps and a woman werewolf slunk out from the cover of the trees, each figure crouching in a defensive stalking stance, as though they wanted to attack but were reluctant to take their chances against the man who'd just beheaded a Leviathan.

Dean's pupils dilated as adrenaline shot through his body, preparing for the fight. His breaths came regularly as he raised his wicked weapon, bracing himself.

The first vampire lunged straight at Dean's throat, his hands outstretched, dirty fingernails clawing at the empty air as Dean dived under his grasp, slicing upwards with his blade as he did so, carving through the vamp's belly all the way up to catch his heart. Dean followed this with a quick back-slice to behead the vampire behind him, then pulling the swing around to finish off the first.

The werewolf lurked back, and had maintained a healthy distance from Dean, seeming to have thought better of attacking after having watched her companions be gutted and decapitated. She was wise to have kept away, but Dean had different plans for her.

"Where's the angel?" he growled as he edged towards her.

She stumbled back, eerie eyes widening in fear as she saw that there was no way out. "I said, where's the angel?" Dean roared, snarling each word as he advanced menacingly towards the floundering she-wolf.

"I don't know, I don't know, I don't know…" Her terrified voice was enough to make Dean stop. There was something familiar about her, but Dean couldn't place it.

"If you're lying to me…" he threatened.

"I'm not, I'm not, please," she begged. "Please, Winchester. Please don't hurt me."

Dean tensed again. "How do you know my name?" he demanded.

"I – Your brother, he –" she choked on her frightened sobs. "I'm Madison, Madison from San Francisco," she said. "I got turned into a werewolf and you tried to cure me but it didn't work, so Sam had to… Had to kill me."

"Madison?" he frowned in confusion. "As in, that wolf girl Sam slept with and then shot in the heart, Madison?"

She nodded, relief pouring through her as Dean stood down. "Yeah. That Madison."

"You got sent here, then? After Sam killed you."

"Yes. I thought it was Heaven at first," she confessed with a derisive snort. "But then all these things came and tried to kill me. I'm surprised I lasted this long, to be honest."

"Yeah, I'll bet." Dean looked around for more monsters, but there were none to be seen, and the woods were quiet enough without being deadly.

"What happens when we die here, Dean?" Madison asked suddenly.

Dean looked at her curiously. "I don't know," he said honestly. "Pop out of existence, get reborn here again… I seriously don't know. Wish I did, though."

"Me too. If I knew what'd happen then maybe I wouldn't be so afraid to go." Her eyes glistened with unexpected human tears, as though she'd been waiting so long with these thoughts but had been unable to express them in seven years. Dean's heart shifted in his chest as his instincts reached out to comfort her. "Maybe all I want is a way out," she continued. "But it's so hard to let myself be torn to shreds by some Leviathan or vampire or other Godforsaken creature when I'm so afraid of what could happen. I could go to Hell, for all I know. But I'm tired of this, Dean. I'm so sick of it all."

"Don't you start talking like that," Dean whispered. "If you start talking like that… You'll stop believing in yourself. And then you'll lose everything and everyone. When I started talking like that, I nearly destroyed half the world. No exaggeration. And I would have let everybody down if it hadn't been for Sammy. And his stupid faith in me."

"But I don't want to go on, Dean. I don't want to live if the alternative is better than this," Madison stressed, desperately trying to get her words out in the correct order to help the Hunter understand. "Isn't Purgatory meant to be the place you go to before Heaven? What if dying here kills the monster inside of you and gets rid of all the bad things you did when you were… not human?"

Dean stared at her incredulously. "You think that's what happens?"

"It's what I like to believe happens, yeah," she shrugged. "That's what happens in the scripture, isn't it? Except with the word 'monster' in a less literal sense."

"Yeah, but –"

"I know it's an off chance, but there's nothing else to go on so I might as well believe it."

"And if you go to Hell?"

"I guess that's why I haven't done it yet," she laughed. "But that's not exactly the problem. The problem is that I can't bring myself to let myself go down without fighting. This monster part of me, it won't go down easily. It scratches its way to the surface every time I get close. And I just let it take over. I let it rule my mind until I'm safe again, and then I can't go anywhere."

"So you want to die," Dean said slowly. "But the werewolf part of you won't let you kill yourself?"

"Pretty much. And yeah, it sucks just as much as you'd think."

He couldn't look at her anymore. He felt like this was on him. This bright, young girl wanting to die. It was the saddest thing. Madison didn't deserve Purgatory. "Dean," Madison said urgently, catching his arm whilst being careful to keep her claws from digging into his flesh. "If I help you, will you kill me?" Her eyes were fevered with wanting. "Will you let me go to Heaven?"

"You don't know that's what happens," he whispered, reluctantly shuffling on his feet, looking at the ground.

"Anything is better than an eternity here," she countered, determined. "Even if I go to Hell I'll at least know what happens to people who wind up here and there'll be some sort of change to my existence. And if I snuff it altogether, then that'd be great too."

He paused for a moment before pulling away from her, sadness welling up with a great weight inside him, and guilt seeping through his veins as he made his decision. "Alright. Yes," he said quietly. "If that's what you want."

Madison smiled warmly with gratitude. "Thank you, Dean."

His next breath was loud and long. "If you're gonna help me, you might need this," he said, reaching into his jacket and bringing out the demon knife, offering it to Madison by the handle.

"No thanks," she grinned, revealing her fangs. "Not my style."

"O-kay," he said, stowing it back into his pocket. "Let's go find Cas." He started to head off.

"Who's Cas?" Madison asked as she jogged a few steps to catch up. "Is he the angel?"

"Yeah, sort of. He's not really an angel anymore, though." He stepped lightly but quickly, ducking under a low branch as he advanced. "His name's actually Castiel."

Madison smiled cheekily. "And you call him Cas." Her voice was thick with implications. "And you come all the way to Purgatory to look for him."

Dean scowled. "I'm going further than that, sweetheart. I'm going all the way to Hell."

"That's a lot for just one unimportant angel-now-human."

"He's not unimportant to me," Dean said shortly. "He's my friend. And he's family. So yeah, I'm going to find him. Doesn't matter where he is or what I have to do to get him back."

"What about Sam?"

Dean's voice became strung. "Sam's not with me."

Madison took this as her cue to stop talking, and so they continued through the forest without further conversation, only using hand signals to point out potential danger every now and again.

They may have been wandering for nine hours when they became close to the portal between Earth and Purgatory. Dean didn't know exactly what had brought him to this point save for familiarity. "Stay close," he ordered, and suddenly alert, Madison kept herself at Dean's back, looking over her shoulder furtively at regular intervals.

And then Dean saw him. Broken into two pieces; head and torso separated, and blood crusted brown on the ground around him. A strange mixture of dark red and black stained the man's gently parted lips. Benny.

"Aw, Benny, no," he whispered, going over to his comrade vampire, who lay in resignation with compassion and peace etched into the creases of his kind face.

Dean crouched, and reached out to close his friend's wide blue eyes. Caught with sorrow, Dean pressed his other hand to his mouth, clutching back the tears that would have begun flow should he have let them. It was his fault for sending him after Sammy in the first place. Benny had been alive again, alive to make himself a new life. He'd been happy, at least for a while. And Dean had torn it all away from him so that he could have Sam back. But in recovering one brother, he'd lost another. Benny was gone, and Dean only had himself to blame.

"Was he someone you knew?" Madison shocked him out of his stricken reverie, and he jerked involuntarily.

"Yeah." Dean rose to his feet again. "He was… A good friend. When I was stuck here he helped me get back to the real world."

"You got stuck here? Wow, when? Were you a monster too?" she said. "How'd he get you out?"

"Through there," he said, and directed Madison's gaze up to where the shimmering blue rip rested atop the rockface. "And no, I was a human. Stood too close to exploding Dick. But it won't work for you; only humans can get through."

"Exploding Dick?" she asked incredulously. "Wait, no. I'm not even gonna ask." Madison didn't take her eyes off the gateway. "Thanks for that bit of information. So you're gonna get out through there this time?"

"No. A Reaper's coming for me. And for Cas, if he's here."

"Any chance this Reaper could pick up three?"

"Madison," Dean said apologetically. "Even if I could take you out of here, you'd have no body to go back to. You'd just wind up back here. I'm sorry."

She shrugged. "Whatever. Guess it's back to Plan A, then." Dean didn't respond. "Castiel isn't in Purgatory, as far as I can tell. I'd be able to sense his human life force or something if he was," she said lightly, switching the topic. "So how're you getting into Hell, genius?"

"There's a portal. You follow the river until you reach the place where three trees grow as one."

"Okay, Lord Byron," she snorted. "Which way?"

"There."

The river wound on for many miles, and Dean soon grew tired of its seemingly never-ending stretch. His eyes became weary and every tree seemed to be made of three as they focused and unfocused before him. He checked his watch. _One hour left in Purgatory if I want twenty-four in Hell_ , he thought as he finally managed to get the time. _Cutting it a bit close_.

"I see it!" Madison exclaimed out of the blue, suddenly excited.

Dean scanned the horizon, but his eyes were pitifully poor compared to the she-wolf's, and even when he squinted he could not see. "Where?"

"There, Dean!" she pointed off into the distance. "Come on!"

They hit a run, Dean following behind the bounding Madison. He couldn't keep up with her bottomless energy, and she reached the opening before he had cleared three-quarters of the distance. Her laugh was full and rich as he caught up, the exertion leaving him panting and hot. "Jesus," he wheezed, bent over with his hands pressing down on his bent knees. "You could've slowed up a bit."

"Sorry," she smirked. "But I was under the impression that you haven't got all the time in the world."

"That's true." Dean straightened. They rested a while, smiling and panting slightly. It was somewhat peaceful until a cracking twig in the background sent him into a whirl of deadly viciousness. "What was that?" he said, rolling up onto the balls of his feet, tense.

"I don't know," Madison murmured back, her own eyes flashing around the trees, searching for an attacker.

"Dean Winchester."

Dean spun around, curling his weapon back, preparing for a swing as he did so. "Gordon," he said, voice tight, as he saw the ex-Hunter vampire smiling sadistically at him.

"I wasn't expecting to see you here, Dean," Gordon sneered. "But I am ever so glad I did."

"Go," Dean said quietly to Madison, who had frozen at the sight of the fanged monster.

"No, no," Gordon smirked. "Please stay. It would be such a shame to have you miss this opportunity to watch Dean Winchester die."

"I'm not dying here, Gordon," Dean snarled. "You are."

Gordon cocked his head to the side, amused. "We'll see. Because we both know the only reason you survived our last encounter was because Sammy was there to help you out. He's not here, is he? I'd have loved to waste him too."

"Go to Hell."

"Oh, Dean, I'm pretty sure I'm already there."

"Really?" Dean said, pushing his bottom lip out to show mocking contemplation and looking around as though appraising his surroundings. "'Cause I've been to Hell, and this looks nothing like it."

Gordon was momentarily taken aback. "So where am I?"

Dean gave Gordon a smirk of his own. "Purgatory, you fugly dick," he said gleefully. "It's where all the bad little monsters go when they get their nasty heads get chopped off."

Gordon showed Dean his fangs indignantly. "So what did you do to get yourself to Purgatory, Dean?" he asked, his smart-assed mouth an ugly grin. "What kind of freak are you?"

"Oh, I'm not a freak, Gordy," Dean winked. "I just fancied a holiday and I've got the right contacts. Great hunting round here, I heard. Thought it was ideal."

"Alriiiight," Gordon drawled, and his grin widened, eyes lighting up. "Then what about this little bitch?"

"Actually that's surprisingly accurate." Madison's voice held strong. "But slightly crude, if you ask me."

"Ah," Gordon breathed. "A werewolf. Should have known by the eyes. Lovely company you keep, really, Dean." His burgundy eyes never left Madison's emotionless face. "Shame she's going to have to be the one to watch her only friend left get killed in a somewhat tragic 'accident'," he quoted.

Gordon didn't give them a second to react, but Dean didn't need one. His body flowed like fluid, without thought, smoothly and flawlessly. He was a Hunter, and he was strong. He'd been doing this all his life. He ducked away from Gordon's lunge and narrowly avoided the grazing teeth that snapped at his neck. There was a bark and a growl, and then he heard Madison's body slam against a tree and her whimper as she fell to the ground. Dean swung his blade down to connect with Gordon's thigh, but Gordon was quick. He had been a Hunter too, and a good one. Dean knew how capable he was, as his skills as a Hunter had been impressive. But his lack of compassion or care made him insane, and insanity made for an even more dangerous enemy. Dean had barely recovered from his miss before Gordon sprang at him again.

Gordon slammed into Dean's chest with the force of a crashing wave, and Dean flew backwards, Gordon falling on top of his chest. Dean clamped his hands hard around Gordon's neck and pushed backwards with all of his strength, foaming at the mouth with the effort it took to keep Gordon's fangs from his throat.

Suddenly Madison flung herself at Gordon, knocking him off Dean and sending them both tumbling down the slight hill and onto the rocks that pierced their skin and stabbed their ribs. Madison cried out as a sharp rock impaled itself into her side. Gordon was on her in an instant, clawing at her face, slamming his fists into her stomach. Her fangs snapped wildly at the air and her fingernail claws scratched desperately at Gordon's chest, but to little profit. He sank his mouth to her belly and sliced across it, his venom seeping into her bloodstream as they ripped and tore through her skin and exposed her organs to the air. Madison screamed, and the sound reverberated through Dean's skull, her agony translucent in its noise.

"Madison!" he yelled despairingly. His eyes were furtive as he looked back at Gordon, who was laughing malevolently with delight. "You BASTARD!" Dean screamed, and he lunged.

But Gordon caught his arm, disarming Dean fluently and punching him in the neck with enough force to cause Dean to start coughing violently as he choked. Gordon grinned in triumph as he held Dean in front of him by the lapels of his jacket. "You're mine now," he hissed victoriously.

Dean coughed up a mouthful of blood which dribbled onto his chin, but he looked Gordon right in the eyes and sent him a brief smile. "Not yet, I'm not."

And Gordon frowned, but his bemusement only lasted a second before his arms dropped and he sagged weakly to the dirt. "Dead man's blood, bitch," Dean huffed exhaustedly. He threw the tiny, bloody dagger he'd stabbed Gordon with into the dirt, then he bent to pick up his weapon. "Enjoy Hell, douchebag," Dean rasped. And then the blade fell, severing Gordon's head from his shoulders.

He stood for a second, just breathing, trying to get his lungs to function properly again as he massaged his throat. And then he remembered Madison. He crouched by her side, and her eyelids fluttered open, tired and weary, but alive. Injured beyond all repair, but alive to give her final message. Her cracked and bloodied lips parted and they rattled with shaking gasps.

"This is it, then," Madison said, a worn smile working its way woodenly onto her exhausted mouth. "Time for me to go."

Dean might have broken there and then, and might have carried her out of Purgatory in the veins of his arms and dumped her into some unwitting body of another young, beautiful girl. He couldn't leave her like this. But then he saw how every muscle of her body had relaxed and saw how relieved she was. Like she couldn't have waited a second longer for them to get there at last. She hadn't fought because of Dean; she'd fought because she wanted this over. And Dean couldn't deny her now. As wrong as leaving her would feel, this was her release.

"Yeah, I guess so," he said.

She reached up her arms with strenuous effort and pulled him into a tight hug. Dean hugged her back, refusing to think about everything that this wonderfully brave girl had had to face in her life, and everything she had died for. Because she'd become an unwitting monster, she'd had no life, and certainly no afterlife. But her death then and her death now… They were something to be proud of.

"It's okay, Dean," she said, cupping his face tenderly. "This was what I wanted. And it's not like it hasn't happened before."

Wetness licked his eyelashes as he embraced her. "Thanks for everything, Madison," he choked out. "I mean it."

"No," she laughed faintly. "Thank you."

Madison pulled Dean down to kiss his scruffy cheek. Her lips were soft and grateful and fond. Tears began to spill out of her eyes as she blinked. "Tell Sam I'm okay?" she croaked.

"I will," Dean murmured into her hair, rocking her cold, blood-stained body gently.

"And that I forgive him," she sniffed. "I shouldn't think he's forgiven himself."

Dean took hold of her hand, and squeezed. He held her tightly as her last sigh dragged the weight of a ton of pure liberation and animation faded from her peaceful face. He held her limp body and lowered it to the ground with as much delicacy as he could manage. Once she was rested, he laid a long, sweet kiss upon her forehead. _Goodbye_ , he thought before he stepped over her lifeless corpse and into the darkest realms of Hell.


	6. A Demon's Bitch

"Hello again, Castiel," the bearded man said, appearing in the beautiful room once more.

"Let me go," Cas demanded sharply, moving threateningly towards him.

He laughed maliciously. "Oh, Castiel," he said. "I don't think so just yet." The man studied his fingernails for dirt, casually slouching and completely unimpressed by Castiel's hostile behaviour. "There's something I need you to do first."

"And what is that?" Cas was bitter.

"Firstly," the man said with a backwards flick of his wrist. "I'm going to get you back into Heaven. And then you need to go to the Garden. I'm sure you know that there is a tree there, with wide branches and bearing red apples. I want you to pick one and take a bite."

Cas narrowed his eyes. "You're talking about the Tree of Knowledge."

"Yes, I am," he purled, grinning.

"Then you're –"

"The snake? he said innocently. "Indeed." His eyes glinted devilishly.

"You son of a bitch," Cas snarled. "You want me to eat from the Tree of Knowledge? For what purpose?"

"I thought you needed a little push in the right direction," he replied, twisting his hair absently as he studied Cas.

"I know the difference between good and evil," Cas growled.

"I beg to differ," the snake said. "I've been walking this world for some time, Castiel. And I've seen what you've done. The decisions you make are often rather disastrous, are they not? I would go as far to say that you don't seem to know the difference at all."

The angel clenched his fists, as though through this he could hold back all the regret that he felt for past events. As though he could build a fort-like prison for all the pain and suffering that he had caused, and all the damage that he had done with a simple physical gesture. The man contained his sadistic pleasure as he watched Cas squirm.

"Let me go." Cas was as stone, but inside he was begging.

"No."

"Dean will find me. And he'll kill you when he does," Cas said, weakening.

"Ah, Dean," the snake-man sighed. "You really believe he can find you here? That Hunter. He's a shabby representation of a man at best. And yet you think that he is the part of you that has the most worth. Can't you see, Castiel, that if you didn't have him weighing you down, you could be so much more?"

"I used to think that," Cas said firmly. "There was more than one time when I believed that I didn't need him." His true form began to glow within him as he became resolute. No longer fearful of this bastard, he looked him straight in the eye, mocking his ignorance. "But we're family," he said. "And Dean knows better than anyone what that means. It means we protect each other. We all make mistakes when we're lonely or frightened. And family's there to stop you being lonely. To stop you being afraid. Dean is everything to me. I would die for him again and again, and I have. So don't you dare assume that I would be better without him."

The serpent was temporarily silent, but his expression betrayed nothing but disappointment at Cas' words. He looked at his nails once more, breathing loudly as he exhaled. "Well," he said contemplatively. "Then it's a shame that Dean's stuck in Hell for the time being, isn't it?"

Cas was dumbstruck. "Dean's in Hell?"

"Yes; he's looking for you, actually," he said distractedly. "I don't reckon he'll get out this time. Not when there's that big mess with his brother and the demons."

"What do you mean?" Cas blinked confusedly. "What about Sam?"

"Of course. Dean didn't tell you. But then I suppose he didn't get much time." Cas bristled angrily, and the man looked up through his eyebrows, one raised higher than the other. "Sam," he said. "After he nearly cured Crowley, released that pompous dick to let him go back downstairs and start running Hell again. But Crowley went to him about a week afterwards and asked Sam for some… Help. Crowley does want to be human again, somewhere inside his sick heart, but he also wants to stay in power so that some psychotic demon like Abaddon can't take over and cause chaos and destruction. So he went to Sam to ask for regular doses of purified blood. It's some way for him to… How did he put it…? Ah yes, get redemption whilst remaining a demon. You see, he started to lose what Sam had given him as the blood began to wear off. What was left of it didn't want that. So he asked Sam for more. And Sam said yes, much against our dear Dean's wishes.

"Then I heard that Crowley hasn't just been coming to the surface to collect his drugs. He's actually been transporting Sam down to Hell to deliver the goods. Dean, of course, feels that such a thing is stupidly dangerous and yet Sam will not stop. Dean doesn't trust Crowley not to trap Sam down there permanently, which is perfectly understandable. And he doesn't trust Crowley not to suck his brother dry either. So yes, Dean has an issue with Sam at this time. When Dean's worried he tends to get more angry than he probably should."

"I don't understand," Cas poked. "Why would Sam do that for Crowley?"

"He pities him," the man shrugged. "Or he feels sorry that he couldn't cure him then. Or both. I don't really understand him myself. But if it was me, I would want the King of Hell as my ally, not my enemy."

Cas nodded slowly, still somewhat dumbstruck. But more than he was baffled, he was concerned. About Sam, yes, but mainly about Dean. Firstly, he was in Hell looking for him. Secondly, he would probably never get out because the demons would likely choke him as soon as they saw him. And thirdly, his brother was becoming a danger to himself again, and that put Dean in a risky position as: a) he could no longer rely upon him and b) if anything was to happen to Sam, Dean would throw himself mindlessly into the fire to save him. Dean needed his Sam, and without him he would be an emotional and very vulnerable wreck.

"I need to go to Dean," Cas said urgently, pleading with no shame now. "Please let me go. Please. I need to help him." Every fibre of him begged. If this serpent didn't let him find Dean, then God only knew what would happen to him. If God even bothered to keep track anymore.

"Sorry. Can't do that," the snake smirked repulsively. "Dean's going to have to deal with this one by himself."

"Can't or won't?" Cas retorted snarkily through gritted teeth.

"Won't," the man winked.

"Please. He needs me."

"Nope."

Cas lunged at his captor in rage and hatred, but he just disappeared and appeared again on the other side of the room, unaffected. Cas could have roared in frustration, but he pushed it down into the pit of his stomach, adamant that he wouldn't let himself lose control. The serpent could have no such power over him; he wouldn't allow it. "Let. Me. Go," he said, every word separated with pauses of impossible fury.

"Sorry," the man hissed, grinning. "Actually," he laughed. "I'm not sorry at all."

\---

Hell was dark. And it was burning. Blazing with the screams of a hundred million souls and the merciless, maniac laughter of the demons who sliced into the essences of those who had fallen. Dean winced and shuddered as the memories of the knife flooded his own mind, tormenting him just as much now as it had done at the time.

A thousand different turnings chased Dean around the Underworld, throwing him headfirst into every grotesque room and passage, each containing a different nightmare. But though these things haunted Dean, he had seen all of it before. Lived it all before. It was not the worst part.

The very worst part was that every demon he saw, they didn't try to kill or capture him, knock him flat to the ground or take him to Crowley. They were snickering at him. Smiling and laughing in glee, and slapping him on the back when they passed. _"Welcome back"_ , they were saying. _"Welcome home, Dean Winchester", "Thanks for stopping Sam from closing the Gates of Hell", "Coming to work the rack again?"_

He could barely stand the stench of their appreciation of him. Their _gratitude_. It took all his strength not to bring out the knife to stab them each one of them, or to slice their snarky heads off.

Every lonely cell he went past, every hanging, impaled body cried out, begging. He was as good as an illusion to them, yet another demon come to abuse them. And yet they still clung to the hope that he might be their glorious saviour. Every soul he left behind weighed heavily upon his conscience.

The corridors became wider as he progressed and wove through their mad patterns. There was a red light that grew ever brighter, and it seared terror into Dean, as much as he denied that it was there. It meant he was getting close to Crowley, and that was the worst idea possible. But it was the quickest way to find Cas. And, with any luck, Sam would be there. Not that Dean wanted him to be down in Hell, but if it was going to save his life and make this a whole lot easier then perhaps Dean could forget about this one.

He turned the corner. The light at the end of this corridor was almost blinding. Dean knew this was it. He drew the knife from his pocket and stepped forward in a hunting stance, quietly. Crowley would know he was here by now, so there was no point in being so silent, but it wasn't in Dean's nature to barge into somewhere he didn't know whether he'd get out of. Unless it was Sammy who was in danger. Or Cas.

The corridor opened out onto a huge hall of red marble and rippled glass screens that flickered with the reflections of the fiery torches along the massive walls. Dean looked up at the ceiling, which seemed to stretch up for an eternity. Here, Hell was beautiful. Here it was light and elegant and rich with gold and glamour. It was Crowley's style, after all.

"Dean," Crowley said, clapping his hands as he greeted the Hunter. Dean's neck snapped around as quickly as a viper snags its prey. "How pleasing it is to see you."

Dean's lip curled in a sarcastic smile. "Crowley."

The demon spread his arms, his eyebrows raised in the cocky confidence that blossomed from his pores. "What can I do for you, Dean?" he asked amiably. "If you're looking for your brother –"

"I'm not looking for Sam," Dean said, cutting across the King of Hell with venom.

Crowley squinted, amusedly curious. "Then what are _you _doing _here?_ "__

__Dean glared at the surrounding demons, reluctant to speak. Crowley was not to be trusted, no matter how 'safe' Sam saw him to be, and his demons even less. Noticing Dean's discomfort, Crowley clicked his fingers with a long sigh and his guards vanished. "Now," he said. "We can talk in private."_ _

__Dean swallowed, gaze still flickering around, still unsure whether he should reveal this to Crowley. But there was no other way. Or at least, no quicker way. "I'm looking for Cas," he said finally, wetting his lips with a quick flick of his tongue._ _

__"Castiel?" Crowley was genuinely surprised. "I thought he was dead."_ _

__"Yeah, so did I," he replied gruffly. "But he's not. And now I'm trying to find him."_ _

__"I'm assuming you think he's here," Crowley said as he sat down in the masterfully crafted oaken chair that hid behind the paper-laden desk. Dean approached, dropping his arms to his sides as the demon relaxed._ _

__"And is he?"_ _

__"Why should I tell you?" Crowley said, picking up his glass of scotch and taking an extended swig._ _

__"Listen here, you son of a bitch," Dean growled, slamming his hands down onto the desk and leaning in to Crowley's face menacingly. "You're going to tell me where Cas is or I'm going to put this knife through your heart, and then chop you into little pieces and bury each strip a hundred miles apart."_ _

__Crowley looked mildly passive. "Good luck with that," he answered mirthlessly._ _

__Demons seized Dean's arms, knocking the knife from his fingers as they dragged him backwards. Dean lashed out against their hold, but to no avail. "Take him downstairs," Crowley ordered, giving dean a smug look. He glared back with repulsive hatred. "Lock him up somewhere unpleasant, and don't let him out."_ _

__"Get off me you sons of bitches!" Dean snarled as they began to drag him away, with each step getting closer to the prison cells of Hell. Closer to the darkness that he knew all too well._ _

__"Dean?"_ _

__His struggling ceased and he looked up in wonder. "Sam?"_ _

__"What're you doing here, Dean?" Sam asked, distraught. "You're not –"_ _

__"No, I'm not dead, Sam." Dean could've rolled his eyes. "I'm looking for Cas."_ _

__"Cas?" Sam was utterly bewildered. "Dean, Cas is dead. We haven't seen him in months. Not since…"_ _

__"He came back," Dean explained. "Not five minutes after you left he burst into the motel room."_ _

__"What happened?"_ _

__Dean glanced furiously at Crowley. "Oh, go ahead," he said, waving dismissively. "Don't stop on my account."_ _

__"Let me go first?" Dean suggested viciously._ _

__With exasperation, Crowley snapped his fingers again. Dean shook himself and straightened his jacket, offended. The expression that he showed Crowley could have frozen beer. The King shifted somewhat in his seat._ _

__"What happened to Cas, Dean?" Sam repeated, drawing Crowley out from under his bitch radar._ _

__"He disappeared," Dean answered, going to pick up the knife from the floor where it had been dropped, but Sam stooped and took it instead, slipping it into his belt. Dean cocked his head slightly in observance. "And he… um… Something took him. He just started flickering and then he was gone."_ _

__"Flickering?" Sam became attentive. "Flickering how? Like a spirit?"_ _

__Dean jerked. "Um… Yeah, I guess. Like a spirit," he said slowly, frowning. "Sam, are you saying –"_ _

__"That Cas is a spirit?" Sam finished. "Yeah, I am. It's a possibility, Dean. A likely one."_ _

__"No," Dean refused. "He's not. I saw him, I touched him –"_ _

__"Spirits can do that," Sam reminded him._ _

__"He's not dead!" Dean yelled._ _

__"Look, Dean. I know it's not something you want to consider but Cas… He could've chosen to stay behind to look after you, just like Bobby did." Dean shook his head. "Dean!" Sam exclaimed. "Listen to me, dammit! It _is_ possible. The only thing that doesn't fit with that theory is that angels don't have souls. They have Graces. And I don't think Graces can become vengeful spirits, okay? Is that good enough for you?"_ _

__Dean hesitated, his face collapsing into an expression of horror. "Cas said," he began slowly. "That he… Wasn't an angel anymore. He said Metatron had taken his Grace and made him… Human." He trembled slightly, his stomach quivering horribly._ _

__There were several moments of absolute silence as the enormity of what Dean had said settled upon his audience. "Wh- What?" Sam finally got out._ _

__"Well of course he's human," Crowley said. "All the other angels are, so what makes you think that Castiel would be any different? Don't be so obtuse."_ _

__Sam scowled briefly, then turned his attention back to Dean. "So Cas became human, and then he came back and found you," he said to clarify. "And if he was human then he could either be alive or a spirit, considering that he'd have a soul now."_ _

__"He's not a spirit, Sam," Dean said firmly. "Something took him."_ _

__"Wasn't me," Crowley declared innocently._ _

__"Shut it, Crowley," Dean snapped disgustedly. "Sam?"_ _

__"Yeah, Dean?"_ _

__"Are you gonna help me, then?" he asked, almost shyly. He was embarrassed to be asking for Sam back after he'd so effectively let him go last time. "I can't do this without you. Or at least, I don't want to."_ _

__Sam looked down at his feet and swayed on them gently. "Maybe not," he said. "But I'm not going on a suicide mission."_ _

__"What the Hell do you mean?" Dean roared, stepping up to Sammy with fury._ _

__"I mean that I know you're going to search everywhere for Cas, and you've already been through Earth, Purgatory and Hell. You're going to _kill yourself_ so that you can search Heaven too," Sam replied calmly. "I'm not going with you on that."_ _

__"You know what, Sammy?" Dean said, voice cracking with barely contained rage. "Screw you. You'll go to Hell to help out a _demon_ but you won't go to Heaven with your own brother." His voice wavered with disappointment. "What happened, Sam? It used to be you and me, and we'd do anything for each other 'cause we're family. Hell, I'd still do anything for you. But now you're giving Crowley all the purified blood he demands just to tide him over enough so that he won't try to kill us. You gonna let him suck you dry, Sammy? You gonna let him bleed you to death? 'Cause that's what'll happen eventually. He'll get sick of taking what you will give him and start taking what you won't. And when you're cold and dead, he'll just fetch some other sorry son of a bitch to fill your shoes. But maybe you can relate, huh, little brother?"_ _

__"Dean, don't –" Sam warned._ _

__"What're you gonna do, Sam?" he shouted at him. "You are putting yet another demon over your family. And this time it's not just me who you're letting down either; it's Cas too. He's part of this family as well. Or don't you remember everything he's done for us? Everything he did for you? How he pulled you out of Lucifer's cage, or how, when you went six kinds of crazy, he took on your madness and let it rot in him until he became some sort of nutty wreck? You remember that, Sam, you bastard? And now you can't even find the decency to do the same for him."_ _

__"Dean, I'm sorry. I really am. But I can't just –" Sam pleaded._ _

__"You're sorry?" Dean exploded. "Is that all you've got to say? You're always saying sorry, Sam. How about trying to do something right for once instead of having to apologize all the time?"_ _

__Sam backed up, evidently hurt. "Dean, please," he said. "This isn't you."_ _

__"Oh, it's me alright," Dean smiled bitterly. "I'm just telling you all the things you don't want to hear."_ _

__"Careful, moose," Crowley warned, rising to a stand. Sam nodded, not looking at the demon behind him._ _

__"Oh, yeah," Dean screamed furiously. "Listen to the King of Hell but not to me! What kind of brother are you?"_ _

__"Let's go, moose," Crowley said quietly, coming to grab Sam's arm._ _

__"Dean, I am so sorry," Sam said sincerely, and then Crowley caught him and they both vanished, the pitiful puppy-like expression on Sam's face ingraining itself into Dean's brain._ _

__"SAM!" Dean howled out wrathfully. "Get back here you dick! You coward!"_ _

__Rage boiled hotly within the Hunter as he gradually focused. _Fine then, he thought. Sam can fuck off with Crowley. I don't need that little bitch. Some family he is._ Dean glanced around for the knife, but remembered that Sam had taken it. He swore at his brother loudly. The middle of Hell was no great place to be with a demon knife, let alone without one._ _

__He drew out his Purgatory weapon instead, and took the corridor through which he had come, though he didn't know the way back. He floundered helplessly for a second before a familiar voice sounded out. "Dean Winchester," it said. "We meet again."_ _

__"Tessa?" he said, relieved. "Boy, am I glad to see you."_ _

__She raised a casually friendly eyebrow at him. "Need a ride out of here?"_ _

__Dean grinned. "Yeah, that'd be great, Tessa. Thanks."_ _

__She placed her hand on his shoulder, and he flinched away slightly, as it was on the exact place where Cas had always touched him when transporting. The Reaper did not seem to notice, and with a sharp jerk they were back on Earth. He was dizzy and disorientated, but his head cleared quickly and his eyes adjusted to the now-darkness. "You'd better be more careful, Dean," Tessa said as he blinked his blindness away. "It's not wise to go wandering off into Hell, not even if your brother's chummy with its King."_ _

__"I know, Tessa," Dean said tiredly._ _

__"What were you doing down there, anyway?" she queried lightly._ _

__"Castiel," he said. "The angel… He… I was looking for him."_ _

__Her face echoed her surprise. "And I thought going to Hell was one of those things only book characters did for one another."_ _

__"This is serious," Dean scowled. "He's not… Dead, is he? I mean, you'd know, right? If someone died?"_ _

__"Yeah, I would." She folded her arms across her chest. "But not angels or demons or monsters. Only humans."_ _

__"He is human now."_ _

__"Then no, he's not dead."_ _

__Dean's sigh of released tension was full of bliss. "Thank God."_ _

__"So where do you think he is?" she poked._ _

__"Heaven," Dean confirmed. "Metatron might've dragged his ass back up there. He has every reason to, I suppose."_ _

__"You're going to Heaven to find him?" she inquired incredulously._ _

__"Yeah."_ _

__"But to get to Heaven you'd have to –"_ _

__"Kill myself?" Dean gave her a look, which was almost laughter. "So what?"_ _

__She shuffled in discomfort. "You might not be able to get back, Dean. Only an angel could do that, and there's only Metatron left. I shouldn't think he'd help you out at all."_ _

__"I know."_ _

__"And what if he's not there?"_ _

__"He is there," he said assuredly. "There's nowhere else he _could_ be."_ _

__"Alright," she contemplated. "And if you do find him and you do escape from Metatron, what happens then? Considering you won't be able to come back?"_ _

__Dean shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans, and stared up at the star-studded sky, breathing in the cool air. "Then I'll be with him. I guess nothing else matters."_ _

__"Dean?" Her face crumpled sadly. "You can't just let go. It's not who you are. It's not what you live for."_ _

__"I've got nothing left anymore but him," Dean said. "Sam's become a demon's bitch, Bobby's dead, Dad's dead, Lisa and Ben don't know who I am… Cas is all the family I've got now. And if I can be with him in Heaven then that's fine."_ _

__"Sam means well, Dean," Tessa reminded him gently. "He's still your brother and he still loves you."_ _

__"He's lost every right to that title," he snapped. "After everything he's done, he isn't worthy of shit."_ _

__"He needs you, Dean."_ _

__"Yeah, well. He doesn't deserve me."_ _

__Tessa's words caught in her throat. But her gaze soon became a frown of curiosity. "You're not yourself, Dean," she stated. "There's something… Missing."_ _

__"Oh, don't you start," Dean said, running his fingers through his hair._ _

__"Don't I start?" she said, scrutinising him still._ _

__"That's what _Sam_ said," he replied, stressing his little brother's name with malice. "Bastard doesn't have a clue."_ _

__"Have a clue about what?" Tessa demanded. "What did they take from you?"_ _

__"A piece of my soul, alright?" he responded loudly, raising his arms in exasperation. "I had to, to get into Purgatory."_ _

__"Oh, Dean," she said, shaking her dark curls slowly. "Your soul is the most precious thing you have. You can't just hand out chunks of it to any Tom, Dick or Harry who asks."_ _

__"I _had_ to get to Purgatory," Dean tried to explain. "There was no other way."_ _

__"You don't know what they could've done with it. They could be working a spell to kill you or send your ass back to Hell. They could've even sold it on to God knows who. Can you imagine if Crowley or Metatron got hold of it? This is more dangerous than you think."_ _

__"I _do_ know, Tessa," Dean said softly, not looking her in the eye. "I just didn't care enough."_ _

__She sighed quietly, resigned. There was a heaviness of worry and fear resting on her shoulders, but she felt that there was nothing she could do or could have done to stop it. Dean was so resolute. There was no boundary that he would draw when it came to the ones he loved. She placed her cool hand on his forehead and pulled his eyes to hers. "Good luck," she whispered serenely, her kind fingers lingering on his cheek as she moved away and disappeared into the night._ _

__"Thanks, Tessa," he murmured, lips barely moving. Only the still air could hear his words._ _

__Dean exhaled loudly, cracking through the tranquillity with his drive to keep going. He looked around for a clue as to his location, fearing that he was too far into nowhere to move on. But he breathed in relief as he saw the hood of the Impala poking out from the tree-lined dirt road where he'd parked it the day before when he'd met the Reaper. He walked purposefully towards it, content to slide into its backseat. He could do no more without rest. A good, long sleep was what he desperately needed, and Cas, wherever he was, would understand that._ _

__Dean's eyes shut and he was out cold before another breath had breached his body._ _

__Somewhere far away, Castiel was snoring gently._ _


	7. Within His Reach

_Dean scuffed his shoes as he ran blindly through the Garden, tripping at every root and rock, but he would not slow down. If this was truly a part of Heaven then perhaps it was the best, safest way of finding his missing friend. So he ran to escape the possibility of waking before he succeeded._

_The long grass whipped his calves and shins as he tore through its blades, but Dean was so focused that they may as well have been the strokes of a feather upon his skin._

_But it was not the grass that dean had to avoid; it was the thing that lurked in the grass that he was worried about. That dastardly snake who'd bitten him before and had effectively sent him straight out of the dream last time would surely want him out again once it realized that Dean was there. No time to waste today. Or tonight, Dean supposed. But then here the Sun shone as brightly as the moon did upon Dean's physical form._

_The only limit to his pace was fatigue, and as he ran further and further his strength waned, and he had to stop in favour of a frustrated, fast-paced walk in order to keep going. Weapon-less, he searched for a tool as he strode between the trees. As expected, nothing presented itself. He was tempted to rip a branch off one of the trees, but without a knife or blade of any sort to sharpen it with, it would be as good as useless. You couldn't stab a snake with a blunt stick._

_He proceeded with a certain amount of caution. Nothing close to what it would take to slow his pace, but enough to switch his eyes to a more alert, scanning mode. Still, the grass remained motionless and empty, even as more and more time ticked over. Something was wrong. The viper would know he was there and could've gotten him by now. What was it waiting for? What was it planning?_

_Dean scowled suspiciously, then his steps faltered as he thought:_ It's just a dream. Complete made-up nonsense. It's a bloody snake, not a Metatron, biding its time until it can strike deadly. Why am I even thinking about this? Why the Hell am I looking for Cas here? He can't even come into my dreams anymore. It's just a dream.

_Dean tried to convince himself, but he couldn't bring himself to believe it. If there was even the slightest chance that this could be real… Dean wasn't going to take any chances. It felt too real to be risked. He had nothing to bet besides Cas' life, and that wasn't something he was willing to play. So this meant he would carry on searching._

_But then, if it was simply a dream, then Dean would be happy enough, because at least he could be with Cas in his dreams. If that was all he was to have until he followed Cas to Heaven, then Dean would take it. Although it wouldn't mean that he'd stop looking. It just meant that he'd let himself stop and sleep more often._

_His pace had become little more than a wander, but he didn't notice. There was something about this part of the Garden that necessitated a leisurely walk rather than a stride. The aura itself calmed Dean's heart until it beat slowly and his mind fogged. It may have been a poppy-coloured poison to ward away intruders, but the sluggishness crawled up through his veins as he meandered closer to the centre._

_And then he saw him. Castiel._

_The fog was gone._

_Everything was sharp._

_He was stood with his back to Dean, gazing up at a tree adorned with simple apples and lush green leaves, with a sprinkling of white blossom amidst the fruits. His coat was clean and creaseless, hanging loosely as it always did down to the backs of his knees. His head was tilted upwards, as though he was admiring the dancing branches of the tree, but even from this distance and at this angle Dean could see the little muscles in his jaw working ever so slightly, and he knew Cas was talking to someone._

_Dean approached as quietly as he was able, hoping to snag a glimpse of the other or a snippet of their conversation. All he caught was a murmur of a voice he didn't recognise, and then Cas turned his head around to see Dean at last._

_Dean's face softened and bliss spread throughout his features as Cas' blue eyes held his own with their tearful joy and relief. He saw Cas' lips mouth his name, and Dean shouted across the distance between them in ecstasy. "Cas!" he yelled. "CAS!" he howled again, bawling out with all his heart in the game, screaming to the last thing that mattered in all of the Universe._

_"DEAN!" The reply was deafening. The exuberant, rejoicing cry._

_Dean's legs couldn't carry him fast enough._

_His eyes jumped open, and Cas was gone._

\---

"SHIT!" he bellowed, slamming his hands on the wheel. "Shit, shit, SHIT!" His lungs ripped up as he choked on nothing. "Cas," he broke. "Jesus, Cas YOU WERE RIGHT THERE YOU WERE RIGHT THERE YOU… Y–"

He buried his face in his hands, holding back a sob. He felt cheated. And torn. And all of his despair leaked out through his eyes and through his breathless throat that was too tight and raw to inhale. All this time, he had not let it escape its fleshy cage but it had nibbled and nibbled until it finally breached the surface of his skin, because he couldn't heal fast enough now. Now, after he'd seen Cas, he just couldn't keep it buried anymore. The truth of it was that Dean had been forgetting all of those gazes that Cas had bestowed upon him, all of those small, comforting touches and all of those soft words in an angel's tongue. He'd been so scared of losing him forever from all methods of the mind. And so tangible had been their reunion – so close – that Dean had believed, for that second, that it was all over. That Cas would be in his arms once more. But not so.

It was Purgatory all over again. Except this time Cas wasn't even close to within his reach.

Maybe Dean had thought that he would never need someone so much that it would stop his heart and all of his mind to be without them. Sure, he'd do anything for Sam, and he needed his brother, his family, so badly that he'd die to bring him back. But he wouldn't go insane without him, as he feared he might without Cas.

So close. Cas' voice reverberated through Dean's shattered soul, calling out his name over and over and over, reaching out to him. And Dean would reach back, but there was nothing to hold onto. So the voice faded, and with each repetition it changed until it transformed into Dean's own voice, shrieking out his own name to the deserts and the mountains and the lonely long roads. And no matter how many times Dean tried to conjure its sound, Cas' voice was a ghost never to be seen.

Darkness nestled into his breast, spinning its cotton webs around his lungs, dripping off his ribs and dancing in a complex weave of blackness and horror. He let it weave; maybe it would drive him. He's have something to push against rather than having to float aimlessly through space without direction or gravity.

It was time to make preparations.


End file.
